


Blood and Bone

by Writegirl



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Body Horror, Body Modification, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Child Abuse, Conditioning, Defining Moments, Gen, Graphic Description, Psychological Torture, Random Marvel Characters, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sisters, Thanos's F- Parenting, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 16:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10835295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writegirl/pseuds/Writegirl
Summary: Minor blink-and-you'll-miss-them spoilers for Vol. 2.All she wanted was a sister.





	Blood and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Nebula's confession to Gamora towards the end of Vol. 2 that turned into a 4+1. No real spoilers for the movie.  
> Some things to keep in mind, though:
> 
> The fic begins when Nebula is about thirteen in human years and she is the older sibling.  
> Nebula and Gamora have extensive cybernetic enhancements, so even though they look fairly young in the movies, I imagine them as having been with Thanos for a very long time, possibly a century or more. They are the first of his 'children'.  
> Gamora's species is Zen-Whoberi and Nebula is a Luphomoid.
> 
> Edit 5/07/17 - fixed for coherency issues. Drinking and writing do not go together.

          The word 'begin' was barely out of her Father's mouth when the blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a starburst in her skull; a bright wall of sound and color that stole her vision and hearing. Her legs began to give out but Nebula didn’t feel herself fall. Instinct forced her muscles to lock, her knees and ankles to steady so she would not sprawl like a felled animal on the stones. She landed in a half-crouch, staff still gripped in her hands, eyes swimming and ears ringing from the blow to her temple. She staggered away from her attacker and blinked furiously, aware of her Father speaking somewhere above her, his voice vibrating through her chest. _I have failed him._ The thought echoed through her with cold dread. 

She did not mean to fail. When her Father ordered her to fight his newest acquisition she thought only of the female’s skinny arms and bird-like face. It was Gamora’s first time being measured by their Father, so she planned to only humiliate the Zen-Whoberi a little. A small lesson, so Nebula could help her learn others later. In the weeks since she was brought to Sanctuary Gamora did little but look sullen and mourn her people. She refused to eat and hissed at any who came too close, be they servant or instructor. It reminded Nebula of a wounded Calurnian desperate to scare away predators, all puffed out fur and needle sized teeth. 

          Nebula knew pain. She knew what it felt like to drag yourself to the medical wing after a brutal training session where the bones pierced the skin and every step was agony. Knew the hollow pain of failure like she knew the taste of her own blood dripping from a lip split and gnawed upon to keep from screaming as she was punished. Sanctuary's halls of dark rock and cold metal were not a place that tolerated weakness, but Nebula gave the girl what time she could to grieve uninterrupted. Her Father told her Gamora was to be her sister. It was a strange word, one she associated with ships or planetary systems, not a living, breathing person. 

          There were no siblings in the few memories she had from before her Father chose her. No memories of closeness that she could put a name to. Her sword was her mother and the hard stones of the training floor her brother. Her confusion led her to a console, and research revealed a sister was something she hadn’t known she wanted. The word meant someone to speak to who wasn’t an instructor. Someone who wouldn’t report her every misstep to their Father. Sisters conquered tyrants and explored the galaxy, and there was nothing she wanted more than to share her loneliness with someone who wouldn’t see it as weakness. They would conquer the universe, she and Gamora, and the Eternals themselves would tremble at the slightest whisper of their names. 

When the floor settled before her eyes and the rushing calmed in her ears Nebula looked up. Her Father was speaking, but not to her. He was staring down at Gamora with pride and the beginnings of a smile moving his features. That look sent a flame of jealousy through her, and it settled hot and dark in her core. What had Gamora done other than land a strike on one who did not plan to truly harm her? Had she been prepared, done as she was trained, it would be Gamora fighting to see straight while she was praised. 

Nebula struggled to stand, and a wave of nausea forced a moan from her throat. The sound was small, but it drew her Father’s gaze to her like a hunting zor cat. “Nebula.” 

She willed her legs to straighten, and the world spun for a moment before righting itself. The female hit harder than she thought. There was power in Gamora's skinny arms and solid technique in her stance. She swallowed back bile and forced herself to attention, staff tight against the line of her body. “Father.” 

“You are the oldest of my children,” he started slowly, eyes boring into her. “You have always fought well, always pleased me, yet this child has defeated you with her first blow.” 

She kept her expression neutral. Gamora was hardly a child. She was a year, perhaps two younger than herself. “I have failed you.” The regret in her voice was not feigned. 

“You have.” The confirmation hit her like a blow, and the training hall swam around her. “Tell me, why did you fail?” 

Nebula swallowed. “I did not see her blow,” she admitted, every world pulled from her. “I was unable to block her in time.” 

Her Father’s hand came up to her face and hovered over her left eye. The flesh around the socket was already swelling and tender. “This eye has failed your Father,” he told her. His finger dug into the skin of her cheek. When the pressure continued to grow, Nebula grunted. She tried to move away from the pain, only for her Father’s other hand to press her forward. She screamed her hands scrabbling at his wrist as she begged and pleaded with him to stop, but she knew it was futile. There was no word in any language that could make her Father stop once he wished to do something. 

“I will remedy your defect, daughter." She could barely hear the words over her own cries. “My children should be equal in all things, after all.” In one swift move, two fingers dug around her eye and yanked it from the socket. The pain was so intense it made her vomit, and she collapsed to the floor in her own spew, clutching at the space that once held her eye as she screamed. Hands grabbed her, pulled her away from her Father and Gamora and fought to wrench her own from her ruined flesh. 

The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was the girl staring after her, staff still clutched in her hand. 

A month passed as she recovered from her punishment. A month spent with Thanos’s technicians as they perfected her new eye. Luphomoid nerves were highly resistant to grafting and synthetic neural tissue, so the eye required constant recalibration before they determined her ready enough to return to her duties. There were some advantages to having the prosthetic, she was willing to admit. Her favorite was the ability to switch between spectrums, but she found herself mourning the symmetry of her face. The shiny black left orb differed from her golden right and made her look unbalanced - as if one eye or the other was somehow unfinished. She supposed it would frighten the hoards she would one day subdue in her Father’s name, but for now, it was a constant reminder of her failure. 

Nebula walked to Gamora’s quarters and peered inside. The room was large and as utilitarian as her own, with nothing on the walls and only a single, narrow bed and drawers set into the wall for clothing. Gamora moved in the center of the room, spinning and dodging with a sword in her hand. Nebula studied her fast, precise movements as she cut through invisible enemies with a frown. She was taught Zen-Whoberi were pacifists, but this girl was proof to that lie. _I expected a Xandarian flower and met a Kree wardog_ , she thought as she watched. The thought did nothing to ease the ache in her eye but it took some of the heat from her anger. Had she known Gamora was trained she would have been on her guard, would not have embarrassed herself so completely. Next time, she would be ready. 

“What do you want?” Gomora asked without stopping, thrusting the sword through an invisible target. 

“We are to be sisters,” Nebula answered carefully. “Father has decreed it.” 

“Thanos is not my father!” She punctuated the last word with a vicious swipe that left Gamora facing her, thin chest heaving. 

“You shouldn’t say that ” Nebula warned. Her eyes darted to the ceiling where viewing and listening devices were no doubt installed. "Our Father has decreed it, and so it is." 

          Gamora stalked forward, and Nebula kept a careful eye on the sword still in her hands. “That… that _monster_ will never be my father,” she hissed, eyes wild. “My father… my family… burned with my planet. He is nothing to me." 

Nebula said nothing, only turned and walked away. She felt that way once when she was first chosen. Could just barely recall a time when she wished for nothing but to strike at the heart of the being she now called Father, but time taught her differently. It was an honor to be chosen as his daughter. One day she would lead his armies across the cosmos, and when she died, it would be an honor to do so in her Father's name. 

         When they were called before their Father Nebula stood silent and still as her sister was punished. Gamora's screams were high and keening as the electricity coursed through her. A single question punctuated the silences between each application of the pain amplifier, a question that went unanswered except for curses and sobs. In the final silence, her Father asked his question again. “Who am I, little Gamora?” he almost purred. 

Dark, baleful eyes latched on her before going back to the stone floor. “My…” her sister closed her eyes, and a single tear drifted down her cheek. “My father.” The words were a whisper. 

Nebula did not move after their Father removed the device from her sister's thin neck and fought not to lift her hands to the burns that marred her own. Gamora lay broken on the stones, shivering with the aftereffects of being electrocuted. It took long minutes for her to find her feet, and she half-stumbled, half-crawled out of the throne room. She made it as far as the outer hall before collapsing in a pile of dark green limbs. 

          Later she learned that her sister lay there for the better part of a sleep cycle before a servant was given leave to take her to the medical wing. When she visited Gamora her sister did nothing but hurl curses at her, so Nebula left her to recover as best she could. “Never forget who our Father is, sister,” she warned and prayed the girl would understand now that they lived by his sufferance alone. If they were not Thanos’s daughters, they were nothing. 

* * *

“Don’t." Elysius’s hand on her chest brought Nebula up short.  


“She cost me my arm,” Nebula hissed.  


“She has cost you more than that before.”  


The sound she made was raw and pained, and her new hand spasmed on empty air. The prosthetic burned with a Stygian fire that ran along what it used for bones and settled in her fingertips. Every touch was a lance of molten heat, and the rasp of the synthetic fingers against the palm added an uncomfortable buzzing that ran from fingertip to shoulder. _This is what weakness wrought_ , she thought as she fought through pain the technicians insisted was only in her mind. Had she lost her limb in battle or in some glorious service to her Father she could have swallowed her pain, her rage, but she did not. Her arm was pulled from her by her Father after Gamora managed to cut her bicep during their latest testing. 

          It was not the first limb she lost to her sister's victory. She lost the fingers when she fell behind Gamora in weapons assemblage the year before, her left foot when the bones broke in training before that. Her Father’s cold, _Another defect, Nebula. How disappointing_ woke her nearly every sleep cycle since. Her dreams were filled with nothing but pain and rage, so she released her fury on training partners and instructors alike. When she slashed through one of their younger siblings after he challenged her, their Father was pleased. When she showed her mastery and skill by killing her instructors she earned his praise, but there was one thing she'd yet to do, one test it seemed she would always fail.  


Some cycles she dreamed of defeating her sister just once. Of showing their Father that she was Gamora’s equal. Sweet dreams where the end of a testing did not mean parting from another piece of her flesh, but with her sister's humiliation. She would never admit to her other dreams; dreams of asking her sister to spare her their Father’s punishment. Not to let her win; she would never lower herself so far or ask Gamora to do so, just bring the bout to a tie. To giver her a chance to show him that they were equal in strength. Those dreams left her with an ache behind her heart that she could not place and would not name.  


Nebula pushed forward again but the construct did not remove her hand. Elysius seldom interfered in conflicts with their siblings. With her fragile bones, her sister was not well suited for war, but her mind more than made up for the lack. “Much has happened since you were incapacitated.” She shook her crest in the Zen-Whoberi’s direction. “Gamora has made short work of all who have challenged her in your absence.”  


“They are of no consequence, anyway,” Nebula asserted.  


Elysius tilted her head. “Yet they are Thanos’s children, and must be dealt with.”  


Nebula dismissed her sister's words. She and Gamora were their Father’s true children. All those he found later were weak in some way, flawed. None were worthy to be called children of Thanos. She and Gamora were the first among their siblings, the best of whom were a long step below. “I have defeated them all.”  


“And Gamora has defeated you. Again.”  


Nebula’s eyelid flickered, and the display on her false eye switched to infrared. Elysius’s body temperature made her appear slightly cooler than the rest of the training hall, lacking the tell-tale heat that indicated excitement. Her sister was only stating cold, hard fact. “What was taken from them for their failure?” she asked.  


Elysius blinked her great, dark eyes. “Nothing.”

* * *

“It’s different.”  


“I assure you, Lady Nebula, the cybernetic replacements function just as well as your original limbs.” The technician squeaked as it cringed away from her. “Better even. There should be no discernible difference in sensory input.”  


Nebula threw the tray of dirtied implements at the male and stalked out of the medical wing. She hated the place. Hated the smell of scoured metal and astringent that clung to everything. Hated the ozone scent that seemed to hover around the technicians. Hated knowing that whenever she entered she would leave without a part of herself.  


Her hands felt different, no matter what the Centurian said. It was as if she wore a pair of thick gloves, the sensations muted instead of sharp and immediate. If the devices were truly functioning as they should, then they must be subpar. _Father will not allow them to palm off inferior technology on me_ , she thought as she stalked through Sanctuary. The inhabitants veered wide of her when they noticed her approach, made themselves small and prayed to what gods they had to escape her gaze, as they should. She was the daughter of Thanos, the last Titan, and their fear was her due.  


It didn't take long to learn where her Father was, and in no time she approached the large, intricately worked double doors of the throne room. The doors opened as Nebula neared, and she stopped. Inside, Gamora knelt before their Father, head bowed in perfect obsequiousness as he sat above her. Nebula wished nothing more than for him to look at her the way he looked at her sister, but it seemed years had passed since she was in his favor.  


“You have pleased me once again, Gamora,” Thanos rumbled. “The Hera quadrant has been problematic for too long.”  


“It was my honor to bring them under your control, Father” Gamora answered.  


Black, seething rage crept up from Nebula’s stomach and set her new hand trembling. The Hera campaign was to be her glory, her time to show their Father she was an able commander. It progressed well until she was injured and taken back to Sanctuary for treatment. Trust Gamora to sweep in when the job was almost done and steal it away from her as ably as she stole her limbs.  


Thanos’s smile deepened. “They will sing of your prowess in battle for millennia, my daughter.”  


The rage turned to bitter ashes in her mouth. “Father,” Nebula interrupted.  


He spared her a single glance before angling his throne to study the campaign map. “The technicians tell me you have recovered from your mishap, Nebula.”  


She walked forward until she was even with her sister and knelt. Her mishap would have killed a lesser being. “I am ready to return to battle, Father,” she said, fervor she could not fight making her words breathy.  


“Good. There is a rebellion on Suraka,” he told her. “You will put it down and bring me the heads of those responsible.”  


Nebula frowned. “Suraka is an agrarian world. They are nothing, Father. Let-”  


          “Are you questioning my decision?”  


Fear swept down her spine like ice. Her Father was still as if carved from the same rock as his throne, but she knew how fast he could move when he wished. “No,” she answered quickly. “I-”  


“Then you will leave immediately.” Thanos gestured to her sister. “Gamora will lead my armada to Halcion and defeat their meager forces.”  


_And control your armies while I kick through shit on some backwater world,_ she finished silently. Nebula bowed her assent and left without looking at her sister, the beginnings of his battle plan cut off as the doors closed behind her. Nebula fought the urge to scream and she walked. She would show her Father. She would bring him the heads of the traitors as he asked, and what she did before then would ensure the Surak would never rebel against their master again.

* * *

She would not lose.  


Nebula lurched backward, sliding away from a kick that would have cracked her ribs. Unfazed, Gamora completed her turn and brought her batons down in an overhead arc and the weapons clashed against her own batons with a jolt of electricity. She braced herself and dropped one arm. Gamora overbalanced at the sudden loss of resistance and Nebula hit her squarely in the chest with enough force to make her sister fly back several meters. Gamora rolled when she hit the ground, coming up in a crouch with her weapons at the ready.  


_I will defeat you this time,_ Nebula thought. Her cybernetic legs made her as fast as her sister, capable of performing maneuvers her flesh legs could never have managed. She ignored the sweat burning her eyes, the strain in her arms, her whole being focused on deciphering Gamora’s next move.  


They exchanged blows, again and again, neither of them giving quarter. Nebula thought she had her sister with a kick to the head, only to nearly black out as Gamora broke her arm in two places. The limb repaired itself with a series of painful jerks, but it cost her one of her batons. She held her remaining weapon with two hands, circling wide.  


When she landed flat on her back, her lungs gasping for breath after a well-placed kick to her chest, Nebula knew she was defeated. She could do nothing but stare up at the platform Gamora kicked her from. It was the closest she ever came to beating her sister. The other woman was bloody, a jagged cut spilling dark blood from her hairline to her chin, but she was still standing. Still looking down at her with that blank expression, as if she were nothing.  


“You have disappointed me again, Nebula,” her Father said as he floated down to where she lay.  


Gamora leaped down to her level and landed with a stifled gasp, shifting all her weight to one leg. Good, she hoped she broke her ankle with her last flurry of blows. Let their Father replace one of her limbs for a change.  


Nebula struggled to rise, but her legs would not work. She screamed loud and harsh into the silence around them but there was no response, not even an echo. Something painful hitched in her back, and a peculiar numbness crept up her waist. _I am broken.  
_

Thanos came closer and examined her with a critical eye. “Perhaps the failure has been mine, Nebula,” he said, a strange tone to his voice. “I have struggled so long to make you Gamora’s equal, but you can ask no being for more than their all.”  


_I would be her equal,_ she wanted to scream it, but she swallowed the words. _Every time I approach her, you gift her with an advantage._ Her sister’s gifts were nowhere near her own improvements. Gamora’s cybernetics were enhancements only, not replacements, but they kept the other female just ahead of her.  


Their Father gestured and technicians scuttled forward, quick hands lifting her into a stasis pod.  


“Yes,” Thanos said absently. “Perhaps it is time for a different approach.”  


* * *

_What am I?  
_

Nebula examined herself in the mirror. Her new body was… strange. It was modeled after the one she was born with, all long limbs and power, but it wasn’t her own. Her skin was no longer the smooth azure she'd known all her life. Now strips of darker color interrupted an imitation that was too reflective to be anything but synthetic. Both of her eyes were now pools of darkness. Thanos made her watch as her old body burned, acrid smoke curling away from the shell like a dying snake. He made her watch until there was nothing left but ash and char, and even that was jettisoned into space. She flexed her fingers and toes, trying to find her balance. She felt… off. As if the world were slightly tilted.  


_What am I?  
_

The technicians were eager to tell her what they did. Of how they transferred her to her new housing, each neural relay calibrated meticulously to give her maximum control of her shell. She was a first, a Luphomoid mind transplanted into a fully cybernetic body. The notorious biology of her people conquered by the unrelenting hands of her Father’s minions. Finally, he discovered a way to remove the weakness in her, along with any imperfections. Nebula's eyes traced the line of her nose. Once it had broken so many times in battle and training that the bridge was thickened and a visible bump made it deviate ever so slightly to the left. Now it was smooth and unblemished, the lines of her face immaculate.  


Nebula punched the mirror, creating jagged, distorted reflections of herself that mocked her as they stared back. _What am I?_  


A small cleaning bot rolled into the room, drawn by the sound of breaking glass. It moved quickly, sweeping away the evidence of her outburst.  


“Remove the rest of the mirrors from my quarters,” she ordered as she walked out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
